Things Were Always Different With You
by TheTrueMrsEdmundPevensie
Summary: He knew how bizarre it was for him to think of her, his former student, in that way. She should've been just a glee club member, maybe even a daughter figure to him, like so many of the others were. But she wasn't. - she never was.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the characters, only the story!**

**I know that this pairing isn't very popular…but I still support it! Let me give a little background: Will is no longer married to Emma in this universe (she never got pregnant) and Quinn isn't with Puck. There, to clear up any confusion you might have! :)**

**I don't know why I like this couple so much. Maybe because both characters are equally awesome? haha Anyway, please no hate or SHIP WAR comments, only **_**constructive criticism**_**! Oh, and don't forget to favorite&follow! ;)**

He watches her from across the table in the small New Haven café. A bright smile takes up half of her face as her index finger circles the rim of her coffee cup, not noticing his stare. She never noticed in Glee club rehearsals so years ago, why should she now?

Still, he gazes at her as if it were the first time meeting her. Her blonde hair has gotten longer since the last time they saw each other. But he likes it. And she looks older, yet has that same youthful glow that she did back in high school.

Again, he likes it.

"How have things been with Glee Club?" Her question brings him back to reality.

"Oh, fine. Although we're having trouble coming up with a set list for Regionals." He admits, a tired sigh escaping him.

She takes a sip of her drink. "You could always stick with the classics. Journey, Queen, The Beatles… Except I think we've done just about every single song from them."

He laughs at her comment, making her smile again. "Hey, we've gotten more hip since you left."

"More _hip_?" She repeats, laughing. "That right there tells me that you haven't."

He shakes his head, still smiling, and leans forward in his seat. "So, what about you? You're in your junior year of college now."

She nods. "That's right." She then looks out the window right beside their table. "It's good. Although sometimes I catch myself wishing that I was still in high school."

"You and me both." He says so softly that he's sure she didn't hear him.

Unfortunately she did.

Her eyes meet his again, surprise mixed in with the green. He realizes what he said and adds, "I mean, you _and_ the other kids. Like Santana, Rachel, Puck…"

He sees her shoulders relax as she smiles at him. "Right, of course."

He clears his throat awkwardly and looks around. "I should probably get going."

"I should too." She touches the screen of her phone to see the time. "I have class in forty minutes."

"And I have that conference to get to." He adds absentmindedly.

She looks up at him again. "Where are you staying while you're in town?"

"The Hampton Inn over on fourth street."

She nods and they both stand up. He pays for their drinks and walks with her out the door, stopping right in front of the building.

"It was good to see you again." He tells her.

She smiles at him. "You too. I haven't realized how long it's been."

He has, but he doesn't say it. Instead he puts a hand on her shoulder and says, "Come back to Lima soon. I'd love to have you back in the choir room again."

She glances at his hand before rolling her eyes and pulling him into a hug. "That would be nice."

Her breath on his ear sends a shiver up his spine. He just hopes that she doesn't notice it. And she doesn't seem to as she steps back and out of his grasp.

"Goodbye, Will." It sounds weird to hear her call him by his first name, and he assumes that it felt weird on her tongue, but in a way it also sounds right.

She turns and, sending him one last smile, walks down the sidewalk. He watches her retreating back turn a corner and lets out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding.

Yet his skin still tingles from where she had touched him.

.

.

.

It's near eight thirty at night when he finally returns to his hotel room. The conference had been nothing special; just a few glee advisors getting together and talking about how they can make show choirs more popular to the general public.

He would've cared more if he hadn't been thinking about a certain blond throughout all of it.

He sighs as he throws his briefcase on the bed and walks over to the small fridge in the corner. He grabs a bottle of water and swallows half of it in one gulp, letting the cold liquid relieve his previously dry and itchy throat.

His sweater vest and tie are soon replaced with a grey, V neck T-shirt and pajama pants. It feels good to just lie on the neatly made bed and lose his mind to undemanding television, especially after it had been overloaded with thoughts of _her_ for so long.

It was strange how just one meeting with her caused so many feelings to resurface. He hadn't really thought of her since she left for Yale almost three years ago, yet one smile from her and, like lint to cloth, she was stuck on his mind.

He knew how bizarre it was for him to think of her, his former student, in _that_ way. She should've been just a glee club member, maybe even a daughter figure to him, like so many of the others were. But she wasn't.

She never was.

He assumed, when he had first developed these feelings, that it was because she reminded him of Terri, his ex-wife. Which actually wasn't too far off; she was head of the cheerleading team, she had blond hair, a charming smile. Hell, she even had intense, piercing eyes like Terri.

But then he noticed things that were the opposite too. Like how strong Quinn had been, after everything she had went through, and managed to keep her chin up. It was an admirable quality that he always liked about her. One that Terri _never_ had.

Then there was her singing voice. He knew the policy of Glee Club was to never reject anyone who auditioned for it. But when he heard her rendition of "Say A Little Prayer" with Santana and Brittany as back up, he knew instantly that she was a shoo in. He often regretted giving most of the solos to Rachel; he would've rather preferred Quinn's voice to listen to.

He realized how she was, in many ways, _nothing_ like his ex-wife.

Suddenly a knock sounded on the door. Will, with a sigh, stands up and trudges over, wondering who could be there for him at a hotel. But when he looks through the peep hole and sees the familiar blond hair, he freezes.

What was she doing here? Did he forget something at the café and she was simply bringing it back to him? Or did she feel the spark that he had felt between them and wanted to confront him?

He secretly hoped for the latter, but he knew that probably wasn't the case.

He, with a deep breath, opened the door to come face to face with her. She merely stared at him as he said, "Quinn."

"I remembered you saying that this is where you were staying." She explains. "The lady at the front desk said what room you were in."

"Why would she-"

"I told her I was your wife."

Her statement catches him off guard. "What are you doing here?" He finally asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

She swallows before smirking. "Are you just going to make me stand out here?"

He shakes his head and steps aside to let her in. She passes him and he can smell her perfume waft into the room. He realizes that it's the same scent that she wore back then and tries not to get intoxicated by it as he closes the door.

"Nice place you got here." She comments, looking around the small room.

He watches her for a second before saying, "Quinn-"

"Right, you're wondering what I'm doing here." She chuckles. But something in her tone sounds off, almost as if she was nervous about something.

"Is everything okay? Because, just like when I was your teacher, you can still talk to me about anything." He tells her.

She nods. "I know that." She paces back and forth for a few seconds before choosing to sit on the bed, both hands gripping the edge.

He walks over and crouches in front of her. "What is it?"

She doesn't meet his gaze at first, instead keeping her eyes closed. She then inhales and looks at him. "You're not my teacher anymore."

He's confused. "Yeah…"

"I'm not your student. I'm also not a naive little sixteen year old anymore." She continues, confusing him further.

"Quinn-"

"So then why am I still feeling this way?" She asks, her voice rising a few octaves, and sounding frustrated. "I thought it was just because of a stupid crush! A fantasy that every girl has with a teacher in their lives!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about my feelings for you!" She admits. There's a desperate look in her eyes as she stares at him, her eyebrows knitted together.

He can only keep still. She just admitted to having feelings for him while he's had the same problem with her for _so long_. That was the last thing he'd ever expected to hear from her. Rachel, _maybe_, but not her.

"You..I…" He stutters, not meaning to, as he grasps for anything to say. But the words don't seem to come.

"And now I've made it weird!" She stands up and begins to pace again. "You were my teacher, my mentor, and I know I never should've fallen for you but it was so hard _not_ to. You were so kind to me during my darkest times, so reassuring, and you never let me down even when _I_ let _you_ down."

He stares at her, knowing that he should say something. But he has a feeling that if he does then she'll lose her momentum and leave him.

"I know you don't feel this way. That I was and will always be just a kid to you. But you have to know how you impacted me. How, whenever you walked into the choir room, I would hope desperately that you would look at _me_ before anyone else."

He feels his heart speed up as he finally stands.

"I don't want to lose your friendship. I really don't. But you need to know that I don't think of you as just a mentor. You're so much more, you're…" She sighs, searching for the right words. "Just…please say something."

He looks at her for the longest moment. "You're wrong."

She chuckles bitterly. "I'm pretty sure of what I feel, Will."

"No, not about that." He walks over to her. "You're wrong about me not feeling the same way."

Her eyes widen. "What?"

He shakes his head, somewhat of a grin on his face. "Ever since you first joined Glee Club I _knew_ you were special, Quinn. I didn't know in what way, I just knew that you were one of a kind. But I only looked at you as a kid, like you said. You were just another student."

He saw her look down, so he quickly added, "But that changed. Slowly you became more. I don't know what happened, but I _would_ look at you during rehearsals. More than anyone. I just didn't think much of my feelings because I was so much older than you.."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" She asked softly.

"Because I was your _teacher_, Quinn!" He says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you really think we could've done anything while you were still in high school?"

She shakes her head. "Besides, you already had so many problems to deal with. I didn't think adding _My teacher is attracted to me_ to your list would help."

"But you were always focused on Miss Pillsbury." She points out. "I mean, you went through so much trouble when you proposed to her. How was I supposed to know that you felt this way toward _me_?"

"I did love Emma." He nods, averting his gaze for a moment. "There was a time when I thought she was _the one_." He looks at her again. "But that didn't stop how I felt about you. No matter how much I wanted it to."

The corners of Quinn's mouth curve up into a small smile. "I'm not in high school anymore."

He looks at her seriously as he brings his hand to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know."

"It wouldn't be inappropriate for us. I mean, I'm not a teenager like I was..." She chuckles, almost timidly.

His gaze wanders down to her lips for a split second, then bore into her eyes again. "Are you sure that you feel this way?"

She stares back. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. The question is if _you_ do."

He sighs. "I've tried to fight it. Every time I thought about you –every time I think about you _now _– but to know that you feel it too…"

"I do." She whispers, her eyelids fluttering, and he finds it getting harder for him not to press his lips to her soft pink ones. "I know this situation is crazy."

"It really is." He laughs lightly.

Her eyes shoot open. "I've learned that if I want something, I should take it. And I want this because it feels _right_."

Her hands find their way at the back of his neck and she pulls him down, molding their mouths together in a passionate, chaste kiss. Then she pulls back and stares into his eyes. "Am I wrong?"

He answers her by pressing his mouth to hers again, thinking that she's anything _but_ wrong.


End file.
